


Tutoring with Love

by MushiAkki



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - School, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Rugby Captain John Watson, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MushiAkki/pseuds/MushiAkki
Summary: John needs a chemistry tutor but cannot afford to pay for the lessons. But his buddy Mike has a great idea. And so John Watson meets Sherlock Holmes. What will come of it? ... See for yourself.In short, Teenlock. ;)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. The last chance

**Author's Note:**

> Original story: "Sherlock: Korepetycje z Miłości"

John left the classroom looking disconsolate.

“And what she said?” Mike asked as the blond walked over to him. The boy waved his hand in resignation.

“That I need to raise my GPA to think about uni.”

“You have a good one.”

“Yeah, but it's must be better. I won't improve math. History is out. So only chemistry remains. I have to get A.”

“Well, it won't be that easy. I'm pretty good at chemistry. Actually, you get it too, but if you want to get A from her, you have to be a genius.”

"I know," he muttered resignedly.

“Maybe some tutoring?” Stamford suggested.

"I can't afford a tutor," he replied increasingly dejected.

“And who said you have to pay some guy after graduation? I know someone who knows more than most with a degree.”

John's mood immediately improved. He looked at his friend's triumphant smiling face with hope in his eyes.

“Seriously? Who is it?”

"I met him at a chemistry club. I think he is a year below, but he is reworking the material from uni."

"From uni? He must have a huge brain."

"Yep. Wait a minute, what was his name. Somehow strange ... Oh, I have! Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock Holmes," John repeated under his breath. "I hope he will agree, because it’s my last chance."

"I'll cross my fingers, though I must warn you. He's a bit weird."

"What do you mean weird?"

"You know, I've only seen him twice. As for the conversation, I exchanged two sentences with him. He's not very social. The chemist kicked him out of the club because of his experiment they had to put out the school desk."

"Jeez, did he blew something up in the class?"

Stamford nodded.

"I wasn't there then, so I'm just repeating what I heard, but it's rather true."

"So it's better not to tell her who will teach me," Watson laughed.

"Come on, then you will certainly gain in her sight," Mike replied with smile.

***

John asked his friends about Sherlock Holmes until he finally found out what he looked like and when he finishes classes.

A storm of dark curls, a slender figure and an impeccable white shirt inserted into black jeans.

 _'Yes, it must be him'_ , John thought as he walked over to the boy who was putting books into his locker.

"Hey," he said, resting his hand against one of the school lockers. The dark-haired glanced at him out of the corner of his eye but continued to act.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?" Grey-blue eyes ran quickly over Watson's silhouette.

"Yes," he muttered, closing the locker.

"Cool. I am John Watson. I go to..."

"Could you get to the point? I have no time for stupidity," he interrupted coldly. John froze for a moment, surprised by Holmes's reaction. _'Well, Mike said he isn't social,'_ he thought.

“You're good at chemistry, aren't you?”

"If good means that my knowledge exceed this stupid curriculum, then yes, I'm good."

John raised his eyebrows in surprise. He wanted to laugh at first, but seeing the boy's stony face, he stopped himself. _‘Jesus, did he really mean that?’_

“Eeemm, that's great because I have a little problem with chemistry. Strictly speaking, with an average grade. I need to get A if I want to have a chance to study medicine. That's why I wanted to ask you, could you teach me a little? Such small tutoring. Of course, I'll make it up to you somehow. I don't have a lot of money, but I saved a bit for the holidays.”

Sherlock looked at him haughtily. Watson was speechless, feeling cold gaze of a head taller boy.

"No," he said shortly and passed John, walking down the corridor in the chosen direction. The blond boy stood in a place for a moment, unable to shake the impression that he was completely ignored.

 _‘Oh no, I won't give up so easily you vain asshole!’_ A quick thought run through his mind.

“Hey, hold on!” He shouted after Holmes, then ran up to him.

Holmes was still walking and didn't even a glance at the shorter teen.

"Maybe you want me to get you tickets to the match? The best places," he suggested, walking alongside Sherlock.

"I don't like rugby," he replied succinctly, not even looking at him.

"Okay, have it your way. I'll do whatever you want, just say yes. This is my only chance. My dream. I don't want to give it up because of a stupid grade and a mister bighead who thinks he is better than others and therefore can humiliate them.”

Sherlock stopped and looked at John piercingly. Watson, realizing what he had just said, cursed mentally. Their eyes met. John had no idea what to expect from his interlocutor. Will he be hit on the nose in a moment, or will he hear some interesting mix of the epithets? But he certainly did not expect such words:

"Repeat your name."

"John. John Watson," he replied hesitantly. _'Would he really like to complain to the teachers?'_ , he thought.

"Friday, 6pm, outside the library," he said, watching John carefully, then without waiting for Watson's reaction, he walked away, disappearing into the crowd of kids hanging around the corridor.

John stood dumbfounded, staring at Sherlock as he nimbly maneuvered between the students until he disappeared around the corner. _'So he agreed ... He agreed!'_

"Yes!" He jumped with joy. Several of the boys standing nearby gave him unfavorable glances. John smirked and headed for the class. _'Okay now, but how can I stand a learning with this weirdo?'_ He thought as he entered the classroom.


	2. 134 problems

The longed-for Friday has come. The last bell freed the crowd of kids from boring lessons. Most of them, at least. John was standing outside the library door, checking his watch every now and then. It was quarter past six, and there was no sign of Holmes. _'He stood me up_ ,' he thought, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder. He was about to return home when he saw a characteristic figure walking towards him, through the corridor. Brunet looked at him quickly and muttered something under his breath, but John did not understand a word, so he spoke before they entered the library.

“I already thought you wouldn't come.”

Holmes glanced over his shoulder at him and said in a bored tone:

“I had to finish the experiment.”

“An experiment?” He asked surprised.

“Shell we?” He ignored his question, pushing the door open and going inside. Watson followed him. The library was quiet, and there were only two girls sitting at table besides them. Brunet put the bag on the desk and took out from it four rather thick books and a pile of written papers. John sat down next to him and prepared his notebook and pen, waiting for instructions. Sherlock moved the books and sheets of paper across the table top, then took another from his bag and began reading. The fair-haired boy was staring for a moment at the waste paper in front of him, until he spoke quietly.

“We were supposed to study. It probably requires interaction, doesn't it?”

"A difficult word for someone like you," he grunted, not taking his eyes off the book.

 _‘What did I expect?’_ John sighed mentally.

“Listen, if that's how it is supposed to look like, thank you very much for your ‘help’,” he replied irritated, a bit too loud voice, for which he was rebuked by the gaze of the librarian sitting a few tables away.

He had already hidden his notebook and pen and was about to get up when he heard a whisper close to his ear.

“First I need to know what you can do, so as not to waste time on unnecessaries.”

John froze for a while, still holding the backpack in his hands. For a moment he felt the brunet's warm breath on his ear. _‘Jesus, doesn't he know the idea of personal space?_ ’ It flashed through his mind as Holmes stepped away from him and shifted his interest to the papers on the table. The blond set the backpack on the floor.

"You should read them. They're not perfect, but better than the textbooks you have for class," he whispered, placing his hand on the heap of books. "And this you have to do it yourself," he added, pointing his finger at the handwritten tasks. John leaned over the papers to see better and quickly ran the gaze over the first page.

“You wrote it?” He asked, glancing at the dark-haired boy.

The teen looked at him in a way that immediately showed the stupidity of his question, but murmured softly:

“Yes. The tasks are cross-sectional. When you do them, we'll know what you need to practice and what you don't know at all.”

John looked through the papers and winced a little.

"Oh my goodness, there are a hundred tasks here?

"One hundred and thirty-four," Sherlock specified.

John's slightly scared expression turned to determined.

“Okay. Let it be,” he said, looking at Holmes with the face that he is taking up the challenge.

“When you're done, call me. We'll make an appointment,” he replied, sliding a piece of paper with a phone number across the table. “Just do them this year.”

“You think I can't make it? I'll do,” he replied a little too loudly again, so he gave an apologetic smile to the librarian, who cleared her throat pointedly, eyeing him reproachfully.

"They'll be finished in a week," he added, looking back to the books and then at Sherlock, who was watching him curiously.

“Well. I'm taking your word, John, ” he whispered, moving a little closer. Watson paused in the middle of packing his books as Holmes's hand reached over his own for a pen. Sherlock took the piece of paper lying in front of Watson and wrote something on it, then handed the pen to John with a minimal smile. The blond boy grabbed it quickly and packed the rest of the stuff into the backpack.

"See you in a week, Holmes," he said, rising from the table.

Sherlock with poker face reached for the previously reading book, completely ignoring him. As if Watson wasn't there at all.

The library door closed with a soft creak.

 _‘What an asshole,'_ John thought as he started down the hall to the house.

***

The week passed relentlessly quickly, and John, apart from a lot of chemistry tasks, had team training and a history test. Plus, Harry didn't help at all at home. On the contrary, as soon as she slipped through the house, she was leaving behind her a huge chaos.

"I should be the one who making such a mess, and you should clean up," he shouted so that she could hear him from her room.

"You don't have to clean up," she said, poking her head out the door.

"Sure, and we'll drown in a pile of garbage and your dirty clothes," he said, throwing the sweatshirt she'd left on the stairs at her.

"Chill out. Don’t be a wet blanket," she huffed and slammed the door without waiting for his reply.

John sighed heavily and shut himself up in his room. _‘Okay, time to focus and finish these damn tasks,’_ he thought as he sat down at his desk. As he pulled papers out of his backpack, a small piece of paper fell out of the pages.

 _‘I have to put it somewhere so I don't lose it,’_ he thought as he looked at the phone number written on it. He turned it over in his fingers and saw that something else was written on the back. He hadn't checked it before, forgot about it completely.

"You can skip the one hundred and twenty-fifth task," he read aloud, then frowned and tossed the note in front of him, which fell to the edge of the desk.

"Damn you, Holmes," he grunted, opening the book.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy the story.  
> I will be grateful for your opinions. Please let me know if there are any mistakes.


End file.
